


The Stag and the Spark

by mozbee



Series: Animal Magnetism [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Percival is a hero, Theseus wasn't scared, Uncommon situation, but it ain't no thang, injuries consistent with a car rolling over like a puppy, there was a car crash y'all, you were scared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:36:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozbee/pseuds/mozbee
Summary: On a rainy night Newt is driving home from a visit with his brother, and not ten minutes into the drive is face to face with a very compelling reason as to why he should have spent the night.





	

Something warm nuzzled at his cheek, pulling him from the state of half sleep he lingered in. Blinking in an attempt to clear the ooze from his eyes, he turned his head, wincing at the pain flaring from his neck and shooting down his spine. He startled at the large eyes staring woefully at him, a dark nose, wet from the drizzling rain, so close to his own he went cross eyed trying to focus on it.

Newt Scamander groaned, and carefully laid his head back against the head rest. “You’ve done enough, haven’t you? Go on, get out of here, bloody menace.” The stag stuck its head through the broken window, nudging against Newt’s shoulder which caused him to cry out. It startled back, seeming affronted, taking time to lower its head and sniff at the glass scattered across the wet forest floor, and slowly wandered out of Newt’s sight.

He forced his eyes open wide, fighting to stay awake. The cut on his head seemed to have stopped bleeding or at least slowed, blood congealed thickly on his brow, sticking in his eyebrows where it had gathered before dripping over his eyelids. His heart, which before had been positively beating out of his chest, had slowed back to a reassuring thump, but it felt wrong, somehow. He felt hollowed out, limbs heavy, whole body radiating with pain.

Newt could already hear his older brother’s scolding voice.

Well, it wasn’t like he’d exactly had a choice in the matter, he argued with Theseus. Yes, he had decided to take the rural route home, but he always did, preferring winding country roads over boring straight concrete lanes. But he hadn’t been the one who decided for the stag to choose the moment he was following a bend in the road to leap out freely from the forest lining the road on either side. Any sort of defensive driving techniques wouldn’t have helped in that split second where the road was clear and then so abruptly _not_.

Newt had hit the brakes and spun the wheel, and then the car had squealed and jumped in an unsettling way, rain slick road offering no help, and suddenly his head was smacking against the roof, seatbelt digging in painfully, his senses overwhelmed with a spinning view of the world and deafening cracking and smashing. When it mercifully stopped, his car was upright and steam was rising profusely from under the hood.

Then he had felt a warmth on his face, deep pain radiating through his body, and he had reached a shaking hand up to feel his head, and when it came away stained with bright blood he had unashamedly blacked out.

Now that he was awake again, he tried to wake his brain up. It felt like it was only doing the bare minimum to keep him alive, and only grudgingly so. He looked around him, the inside of the car and his surroundings. The passenger side was crushed up against a tree, probably what had stopped it from rolling. One headlight was still on, but the light was fractured, cutting weakly through tangled underbrush.

The windscreen had a jagged crack running its length, but at least it wasn’t blasted apart like the two front windows. He couldn’t turn his head well enough to see into the backseat of the car. He knew his neck was hurt, but whether from whiplash or something more serious he couldn’t guess. He had a vague recollection of being slammed into the door when the world was spinning around him, and his left shoulder ached horribly. He experimentally tried to lift his left arm, and when that was a failure he settled for wiggling his fingers, rotating his wrist. His shoulder throbbed with every movement but at least nothing was broken.

Newt worked his right arm through the same exercise, and though it was sore all the way through he could at least lift it fully. His face was sore, and felt burned; the airbag a sad deflated thing hanging from the steering wheel. His eyes were irritated, feeling as though sand had been rubbed in them, gritty and uncomfortable. He wiped at them with his good hand, wincing at the twinge of pain through his neck. He slowly moved his left leg, lifting it and bending as much as he could in the cramped confines under the steering wheel.  Rotated his ankle. It was fine. As soon as he lifted his right leg though, he gasped as a white hot pain flew through him, churning his stomach unpleasantly. He quickly dropped it back down, feeling sick at how his foot had hung limply from an ankle that was unequivocally broken.

A voice in his head groaned at having broken his very first bone, something he had had over Theseus. A harsh cough broke from him suddenly, and he gasped in shock at the pain that came with it, and then another wave of pain at his gasp, and then he was caught in a painful loop of coughing and gasping until finally he caught his breath and forced it out in a slow, measured way.

Internal injuries, ribs in all likelihood. Newt tried to tamp down the fear that was starting to grow inside of him, no desire to turn into a panicked crippled mess on the side of a country road at night with a dim headlight the only beacon for anyone driving by to possibly find him even though it was pointing away from the road and this road was not well traversed what with the highway being close by.

He tried to rouse himself into thinking logically. With his ankle in the state it was he would not get very far walking, but he should be able to crawl reasonably well. He reached with his good arm for the handle of his door, and turned and pushed. The door moved, perhaps an inch, with a laboured groan, and then no more. Newt cursed, and tried again, throwing as much force as he could behind it. Nothing. He desperately threw himself bodily into the door, causing his shoulder to set fire to his bones, and still the door would not move. Either it had warped in the rollover or there was something blocking it.

All right, so he couldn’t get himself out. Then he would just have to do what he could to ensure he was found sooner rather than later. He reached for the button above his shattered radio display, and pressed it, turning on his four ways. The front lights didn’t come on, likely smashed, but the wet trees around him lit up with a faint, intermittent orange glow, so at least one of the rear lights was still intact.

He found his whole body shaking, and he felt quite cold suddenly, though whether he was just noticing it or he had been freezing the whole time he didn’t know. He struggled to swallow, his mouth dry and palms sweating, the pain in his right ankle burning steadily at him. How the hell was anyone going to find him? Would there be tire tracks from where he had skidded off the road? No barriers separating road from forest, which meant there was no twisted mass to show where a car had careened through.

“Oh my god!” Newt yelled giddily. His cell phone! He had completely forgotten about it, having only received it from Theseus a scant week ago. He had left it in the front pocket of his satchel, which he had placed on the passenger seat when he’d gotten in his car…however long it had been since he’d departed Theseus’.

He spotted his satchel on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The moon was high overhead, and cast some light through the battered windscreen. He couldn’t see if the phone had been knocked out of its spot so he was going to hold out hope that it hadn’t shifted. Reaching down he unbuckled his seatbelt, wheezing a bit as the pressure was taken off his aching chest, and slowly he leaned to the right, stretching his arm.

And immediately cried out in pain when his broken ankle shifted, bone painfully jarred from even the slightest bit of movement. He took a minute to catch his breath, then as carefully as he could pulled himself to the farthest edge of his seat, willing his leg to stay perfectly still. Deep breath which crackled sharply in his chest, and he leaned forward again, reaching, stretching, pushing himself as far as he could. His shaking fingertips barely grazed the brown leather strap, and he gritted his teeth against every joint that ached in protest the longer he strained. Still, he could just graze the strap but find no purchase, fingers falling shy from being able to grip and pull. His chest was burning, his face stinging, mind racing with terrified thoughts at not reaching his one chance at salvation, and he _lunged_ , bracing himself on his legs and praying for just that last inch.

He collapsed across the middle console with a pained shriek as there was a wet crunch, and his broken ankle was lodged under the gas pedal. Tears of fear and frustration welled up, and he let them come, sobbing despondently into his sleeve, teeth chattering from the cold, hurt and alone and so close to the makings of his own rescue but not strong enough to overcome the pain.

Newt wearily pushed himself back into his seat, leaning against the head rest and closing his eyes, taking no notice of the tears that still ran down his face. His fear was slowly tapering off, replaced with leaden dread. He turned his face toward his window, dully wondering if the stag was still around. He usually felt better around animals, although this was the first time one had caused him such a problem. He sat like that for a while, seeing broken branches around him glistening wetly in the moonlight, the drizzling rain continuing on steadily. The worst part was he wasn’t even that far from the road; if he’d been able to get out of the car he would have dragged himself over every rock and deer turd to get to it.

It was as he was resting, trying to psych himself up to make another go at reaching his bag, when he saw them. Headlights. He threw himself forward so quickly he collided with the steering wheel but paid it no mind. The lights had stopped, how far from him he couldn’t tell; they looked like floating baseballs from here.

Newt leaned as far out of the window as he could and hollered, “Over here! Please! I’m over here!” His chest protested at the exertion and he hacked sharply, struggling to catch his breath. He took another deep breath, the rain freely falling on him, exposed as he was, and yelled again. “I’m here! Please, I’m right here!”

He was terrified that the lights would suddenly shrink, or turn away, and he would be left alone again. He’d turned his ankle under the pedal, but the pain wasn’t registering as he desperately shouted for his life. And to his utter relief, a third light appeared, this one narrow but bright, and it was suddenly bouncing toward him at a rapid pace.

He flopped breathlessly in his seat, keeping his face turned out the window despite the pain in his neck. The closer the light got the more relaxed he was, the flood of adrenaline fading. He felt a dopey smile spread on his face, and heard the little voice inside his head tell him he was going to come across as unhinged to his rescuer but he didn’t care.

The flashlight was pointed down to the side of the car, so it wasn’t shining right in his eyes. Someone leaned down when they got to the car, a tall man with wet hair plastered across his head. Newt grinned up at him, relief flooding through him.

“Hello.”

“Sir, are you all right?” his rescuer asked, voice tight with worry. Isn’t that nice, Newt thought to himself. Perfect strangers yet the man was inquiring after his wellbeing. “Sir, can you hear me?” A hand reached in to gently take hold of Newt’s chin, and Newt sighed at how _warm_ it was. He closed his eyes and nestled into the hand. “Hey, no no, don’t pass out! I need you to stay awake, buddy.”

Newt forced his eyes open and in the dim light sought out his rescuer’s eyes. Too dark to see more than dark circles under a tense brow. “I’m Newt,” he offered, even as the other man tried the door handle. He grunted and strained, but just like when Newt had tried earlier, it hardly budged.

“Newt?” he asked, leaning in close again. “I’m Percival. I’ve already called an ambulance, you’re going to be fine.” He shone the flashlight into the car, trailing it the length of Newt’s body. “Are you hurt?”

Newt nodded and grimaced at the twinge in his neck. “I don’t know how badly, but my ankle is right fucked and I can’t use my left arm.” Newt usually refrained from cursing so strongly but he was feeling almost giddy at talking to someone who was going to help him. Percival reached into the car and took Newt’s right hand.

“God, you’re freezing,” he muttered. He pulled his hand back. “I’ve got a thermal blanket in my trunk, I’m going to go get it for you, all right?” As he moved to turn away Newt shot out and caught his wrist in a weak grip.

“Please, don’t leave me!” Newt begged, trying to tighten his grip. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” Percival came back, bending so he was eye level with Newt. He laid his hand on top of Newt’s, dark eyes finding his and fixing him with a steady look.

“Newt,” he said, voice calm, assuring, “you’re not going to be alone. I’m just going to run to my car and get a blanket for you because you’re freezing. I’ll leave the flashlight with you, and you can keep it pointed on me, all right? I won’t be out of your sight.” Newt was still unsure, heart pounding at the thought of being abandoned, when Percival reached his other hand up and cupped Newt’s cheek. “I promise, Newt. I’ll only be gone for a minute.”

After a long moment, Newt nodded and relinquished his grip. Percival picked the flashlight up from where he’d stood it on the muddy ground and gave it to Newt. Then he turned and hurried back to his car, the flashlight beam trained in the middle of his back. Newt kept a tight hold on the rubber grip, eyes fixed on the figure that went around the back of the car and disappeared momentarily. Newt was terrified that he wasn’t going to come back, that his brain had made up a hero figure to comfort him in his dying moments, that any second now he would snap awake and find himself as alone as he was at the start of this.

He breathed easier when Percival stepped back into the beam of light, jogging back towards his wrecked car, something bulky shining in his arms. Newt handed the flashlight back when Percival reached the door. He set it on the ground again, the beam cutting up through heavy branches that hung overhead. He laid the blanket on Newt’s lap, shiny silver on one side, and some dark colour on the other, a heavy fabric that was a comforting weight on him. Newt tried to help spread it out when Percival suddenly said, “one minute” and popped out of sight. Newt felt his heart drop before he heard the rear passenger door open, and Percival was climbing over the divide between the rows and stuffing himself onto the seat beside Newt.

“Watch the glass,” Newt cautioned, and Percival moved carefully, shoving what debris on the seat he could to the floor. He unfolded the blanket, gently tucking one end under Newt’s right shoulder before bending to arrange it to cover as much of Newt’s legs as possible. It was barely a minute before Newt started to feel comfortable for the first time in—

“What time is it?” he asked Percival. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d set out for home. Percival checked his watch, angling it to catch the light of the moon.

“10:17.” He glanced at Newt. “Is that all right?”

Newt almost laughed; as if he could protest one way or the other. “I left my brother’s house in the city almost exactly an hour ago.” A fierce shiver suddenly hit him, and then his whole body was practically vibrating. He could hear his teeth clacking together, and his body ached anew at every joint rattling uncomfortably. Percival had a hand out, reaching as if he wanted to help but didn’t know how he could. “This blanket is doing the trick,” Newt stuttered out, managing a small grin. A sudden thought struck him. “You called an ambulance, right? Will they be able to find us with you in the car with me? What if they go right past or—“

“Newt,” Percival said, his voice reassuring, “they’ll find us. I’m familiar with this road so I was able to tell them where we are, and I have road flares in my trunk; I ignited a couple when I got the blanket and left them behind my car. They’ll find us.” He squinted in the dark, and picked up the flashlight and shone it at the top of Newt’s head. “That’s a nasty cut, but I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore.” He prodded it gently then pulled his hand away apologetically at Newt’s hiss.

“How long has it been since you called?’ Newt wanted to know. He felt like he had been in this car for hours, the ordeal dragging out behind him with the end now in sight. Percival shrugged.

“Not even ten minutes yet. Are you feeling all right? I mean, as all right as you can in the circumstances.” Percival was sitting as close as he could get.

Newt nodded, mindful of his sore neck. He was thinking ahead to the hospital, specifically the painkillers he would be treated to, hoping they would be strong enough he would be numb for the lecture Theseus would no doubt lay into him.

He sat forward with a gasp, causing Percival to startle and demand, “What is it? Are you hurting?”

“No,” Newt said quickly, sheepishly, for alarming Percival. “I just realized my brother is going to murder me when he sees me. Um,” he glanced at Percival, “would you do me a favour?” At Percival’s nod he continued, “there’s a cell phone in the front pocket of that satchel on the floor at your feet.” Percival turned and picked the bag up off the floor, shaking it free of glass, practically taunting Newt with the ease with which he retrieved it. He opened the front pocket and removed the cell phone, pressed a button on the side and the screen lit up.

“Who am I calling?” he asked, opening the contact list and looking up at Newt. “Would it possibly be Theseus, from whom you have four missed calls?”

Newt nodded. “My brother, yes. I’m not looking forward to hearing any voicemail he may have left.” Percival smirked and hit the call button.

“It’s ringing.” Newt could hear it for himself, and also when the ring cut off and his brother’s voice boomed from the other end.

“ _Newt! I told you to let me know when you got home! It takes twenty seven minutes from my house to yours! I hope you have a good explanation, you little shit!”_

Percival stared at Newt in open mouthed surprise before composing himself and saying, “Theseus, this is Percival Graves. I’ve—“

“ _Who the hell are you and why are you calling from my brother’s phone? If he’s had his boyfriend call me because he doesn’t have the balls to do it himself I swear—“_

Newt gave Percival an apologetic look as he tried several times to interrupt Theseus’ indignant flow politely, and then nodded approvingly when Percival barked, “Theseus! Your brother was in a car accident!” He took advantage of the stunned silence and plowed on. “I came across the accident and I’m here with him now waiting for the ambulance which should be here any second.”

Another moment of silence, then

_“Why the hell didn’t you say so? Newt? Newt!”_

“I’m here Theseus, stop yelling,” Newt grumbled into the phone when Percival held it up to his ear. He had felt such a swelling of euphoria at hearing his brother’s voice, still reluctant to admit even to himself that he had been wondering if he ever would again.

“The ambulance is here,” Percival said suddenly, nodding behind Newt. The woods around them were lit up with the flashing red and blue lights of every emergency vehicle in the fleet: firetrucks and police cars and ambulances. He put the phone against his ear again, and told Theseus, “Help is here. I’m going out to meet them and I’ll find out what hospital they’re bringing your brother to, all right?”

He slid the phone in his shirt pocket, still connected, and smiled at Newt. “It’s almost over,” he said, and as he pulled himself back into the backseat Newt reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. Percival paused, uncomfortably hunched halfway between the seats, and leaned back, face close to Newt’s. “Something wrong?”

Newt shook his head. “Thank you, Percival,” he said seriously, and with his last ounce of strength pushed himself forward and kissed Percival’s cheek. He smiled at the surprise on his face, then let go of his stranglehold on consciousness, and escaped reality, for however briefly.

-X-

When Newt awoke, it was to the feel of a firm mattress, and something itchy around his neck. There was a steady beeping near his head, and he tried to turn to look but realized he couldn’t turn his head. Panic flared in him as he had a thought of paralysis but upon reaching up he felt a padded ring around his neck. A neck brace, his brain supplied helpfully. He sighed heavily, and cast his eyes around the room. Beige walls, ugly chairs against a wall, a door open to a small bathroom with the light on, and another door half open leading into a hall that was brightly lit. Hospital, Newt concluded, St Patrick’s if he was right, basing his guess on the view out of the window along the far wall.

His right leg was resting in a sling, low enough that it was almost grazing the bed, a fresh white cast around his foot ending about halfway up his calf. He had a fleeting sense of relief that he had cut his toenails recently. He was pleased to discover he could breathe deeply without pain ripping through him, and when he realized his left arm was mobile enthusiastically waved it in front of him. He winced at the dull twinge it caused but was still happy. This was a far cry from the miserable mess he had been in the car.

Just as he was examining the IV in the back of his right hand and wondering if it was morphine, the door to his room was nudged open and he looked up eagerly. Theseus paused in the doorway when he saw Newt looking at him. And then charged over to the bed, a wide smile breaking through the tense lines on his face.

“You’re awake!” he cried gleefully, setting a paper cup on the beside table and pulling a chair right up the bed. He laid a hand gingerly on top of Newt’s. “How are you feeling?”

Newt let confusion cloud his features, and stared at Theseus uncertainly. “Who…who are you?” he asked softly. Theseus pulled back, alarmed, and looked around the room for help that was not there, and back to Newt.

“Newt, do you not remember me?” he asked urgently. “Do you…do you remember who _you_ are, or why you’re here?”

Newt tried to fight it, he really did, but the smile that was fighting to break out proved too strong. His lips wobbled in a last ditch effort, but it was too late; Theseus had noticed.

“Oh, you absolute bastard!” he cried, as Newt snorted and snickered in delight. “I swear to god if it wasn’t for that brace on your neck I would strangle you.” He softened, and looked down almost fondly. “In all honesty, how are you feeling? You scared the shit out of me.”

Newt reached and took hold of his brother’s hand again. “My mouth tastes awful, and I’ve got a pounding headache, but other than that, a thousand times better than—what time is it? How long have I been here? I can hear the clock in the room ticking but I can’t see the bloody thing from here.”

“Almost 2:30,” Theseus answered, gripping his hand tight. He stared at Newt for a minute, in a gesture so sappy that Newt soon pulled a face to snap him out of it. Theseus smiled at him and carefully ran a broad hand through Newt’s hair. “I’m going to go find your doctor, she’ll want to know you’ve come to. Expect a lot of poking and prodding in embarrassing places,” he added as he stood. Newt grimaced, and settled his gaze on the ceiling, seeing Theseus leave from the corner of his eye.

“Percival. I’m off to find Doctor Marshall. Keep him occupied, won’t you?” Newt would have snapped his gaze to the door if he could turn his head at his brother’s words, but had to settle for bugging his eyes out as much as he could. “Oh, and if he tries to pull the ‘I don’t remember you I have amnesia’ act, tell him to eat shit,” Theseus added good naturedly.

Newt heard a low chuckle, then suddenly Percival was standing over him. “Hello, Newt. How are you feeling?”

Newt was totally prepared to answer, except his tongue had curled behind his teeth and was trying to jump down his throat. His eyes were starting to water, and Newt felt sure his heart monitor was going to start beeping frantically. The moonlight in his wrecked car had been dim as crap, because standing in front of Newt was a certifiable _god._

After doing his best impression of a fish out of water for a long minute, in which time Percival started to look mildly alarmed, Newt managed to clear his throat and get his tongue sorted out long enough to answer. “Percival. Um, hello. I mean, hi. Er, fine!” Newt cringed at how his voice cracked like a teenaged boy. Percival reached for the chair Theseus had recently vacated, and pulled it close to the bed so Newt could still see him.

“Would you like me to raise your bed?” Percival asked, and in his haze Newt was thinking of raise as _raze_ , as in ‘raze my bed to the ground’, and he fought very hard not to let disappointment show on his face as Percival motioned to a remote that, at Newt’s (not sulky) nod, suddenly tilted the half of the bed his pillow was on forward so he was no longer flat on his back staring at the same spot in the ceiling.

“I must say, you look much better now that you aren’t a bedraggled hump in a wrecked car,” remarked Percival, a warm smile on his face. His hair was tousled, and he looked tired, but content to sit at a stranger’s bedside in the early hours of the morning.

 _You’re pretty_ , was the statement on the tip of Newt’s tongue, itching to roll off. That voice in his head suggested he could blame it on the morphine in his system, but Newt shoved that thought away and settled on eloquently answering, “guh.”

Percival just laughed. “They have you on the good stuff, I see.”

Newt fought to rally his senses, wanting to have a decent conversation with the man who had saved him when death was no longer impending. “What are you doing here?”

The smile slipped a bit on Percival’s face, and he sat back slightly. “I met your brother here, and I didn’t want to leave until I knew how you were doing. He’s quite a…forceful man, isn’t he?”

“Did he reduce anyone to tears?” Newt asked, though his stomach was flopping in distress. Why had he said that! Why are you here, pfft. Newt sternly told himself not to say anything more that would make Percival feel like Newt wasn’t overjoyed at seeing him there.

Percival shook his head. “I can imagine how he could, though.” Abruptly he stood. “I best be heading home. I expect you’d like to rest some more.”

“No, please stay!” Newt said quickly, reaching to grab onto whatever part of Percival he could get. Which naturally was his ass. His firm, well toned ass, _holy shit_. Newt allowed the briefest moment of joy to envelope him before he snapped his hand back as if scorched. He threw his hand over his face in mortification, then gasped and dropped it to his side in case it looked like he was smelling it after the impromptu ass grab.

“I’m sorry,” he told Percival, face burning, eyes firmly closed. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I don’t want you here, and I certainly didn’t mean to cop a feel.” When he dared to open his eyes a smidge, he was relieved to see Percival sitting back down. He looked far too amused by it all.

“Subconsciously I’m sure you did,” Percival answered, grinning again, “considering I’m the man who saved your life, after all.”

Newt regarded him in silence for a moment, the truth in his words carrying a heavy weight. “You did,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to properly thank you for that.” _With a blowy!_ his inner voice shrieked, and Newt grimaced at the thought of losing his filter.

“Someone would have come along eventually,” Percival pointed out. “Your car left a big impression through the brush where you went off the road. I was just the first one to go by.”

“No,” Newt said, since he couldn’t shake his head adequately enough. Percival seemed puzzled.

“No?”

Newt sighed, and swallowed a few times, flicking his eyes towards Percival and away. “I…I was really starting to think…think that, that that was it.” He felt his throat close up at the remembered fear, of not being able to reach his cell phone, of not knowing how far he had travelled from the road, of knowing he couldn’t overcome the pain to save his own life. He shut his eyes tightly, but to his shame felt tears leak out regardless. “Sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed, reaching to wipe them away before he made a bigger fool of himself. A gentle hand on his wrist stopped him, and he looked up, at Percival who was hovering close.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said softly, and let go of Newt’s wrist, and reached with a steady thumb to wipe away the tears. Newt was very still, staring back at Percival, heart pounding, a wordless sound coming unbidden, and naturally that was when Theseus barged in.

“All I am suggesting, Doctor Marshall, is that it would _vastly_ increase the productivity in the emergency wing,” he finished triumphantly to a rather exasperated looking woman behind him. She gave him a smile that clearly begged him to be done, and moved to stand at the foot of Newt’s bed. Percival had calmly straightened and sat back down in his chair, though he’d pushed it away from the bed so as not to be in the doctor’s way. Theseus was narrowing his eyes at the two of them, Newt stuck looking like a shellshocked fish, but thankfully Doctor Marshall headed off any possible comments.

“Good evening, Mr Scamander,” she began, smiling warmly at Newt and pulling a clipboard from the end of his bed. “I’m glad to see you awake. My name is Doctor Marshall, I’ve been looking after you since you were brought in. How are you feeling?”

Newt was having a hard time shifting gears from a smouldering moment with Percival to speaking with his healthcare professional.

Doctor Marshall was pleasant enough, smiling her way through his briefing, proving rather adept at ignoring Theseus huffing and puffing behind her while trying to sneak glances of the chart, and Newt jerked his upper body in affirmation every time she paused and he would have been expected to nod. His mind was still too full of Percival; his hand on his face, stirring memories of being trapped in the car and a warm hand on his cheek to steady him, his own hand full of a resilient ass…

Newt snapped back to reality when Doctor Marshall was suddenly at his side, brows furrowed in medicinal concern, shining a bright light into one eye then the other, Theseus demanding why he’d stopped breathing, Percival standing and looking on in alarm.

He hadn’t realized his breath had caught in his throat when he indulged in that brief thought of the adult nature, and he breathed deeply and loudly at the doctor’s prompting. He grinned sheepishly at the room at large, the tips of his ears burning, and when the three of them continued to stare at him he sought for something to distract them.

“Why does my face feel as though it was burned?” Doctor Marshall regarded him another moment, then removed her stethoscope and leaned back.

“That would be from the airbag deploying. It was the force that it hit you with, it just scraped your skin badly. Nose breaks are common from that, especially full frontal deployments, but judging from the pattern on your face I’m guessing you had your head turned. We did wash your eyes out for you as well, the powder that comes with it was causing irritation.” Newt leaned forward and back in a parody of a nod, pleased that their attention was successfully diverted from his earlier faux pas.

“Well, Mr Scamander, that’s all I have for you for now. Unless any complications arise overnight we should be able to discharge you at noon today. Visiting hours are non-existent at this time of night, _but_ ,” she held up a hand to stave off Theseus’ impending outburst, “as long as your visitors leave within a reasonable amount of time, they can stay for now. With the medications we’ve given you you’ll likely be conked out in ten minutes.” She bid them all good night, giving Theseus a wide berth, and shut the door behind her. There was an awkward silence for a moment as Theseus rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stared, eyes flicking between Newt and Percival.

He made a show of yawning and stretching before coming over to Newt’s bedside. Theseus leaned down and kissed the top of his head, mindful of the stitches. “I’ll be back in the morning, Newt. With breakfast because this hospital has nothing palatable for you.” He leaned across the bed, and shook hands with Percival. “Thank you for everything, Percival. I owe you for helping my brother when I could not.” Theseus glanced down at Newt who was eyeing him suspiciously, and grinned. “I expect I’ll be seeing you again very soon,” he winked at Percival, patted Newt’s leg, and was out the door, his deep voice jovially addressing a janitor and his mopping technique, fading away gradually.

“I’m sorry,” Newt said instantly, shifting so he could better see Percival. “Theseus is a loudmouthed scoundrel with his own ideas about everything.”

Percival didn’t seem bothered. “You know,” he began conversationally, “when I first found you, and you said your name was Newt, I was honestly afraid you’d banged your head harder than you had.”

Newt laughed, settling back against his pillow. Percival had pulled his chair right up against the bed, and he hesitantly reached out to hold Newt’s hand. Newt was filled with the same comfort that had come to him in the car when Percival had climbed in with him.

“Why did you…”Newt began, but trailed off. It wasn’t important.

“Why did I what?” Percival asked, running his thumb lightly over Newt’s wrist. Newt watched for a moment, realizing he liked the look and feel of their hands together.

“Why did you sit with me, in the car?”

“I could tell you needed it. That you needed someone to be close. You—“ he hesitated but carried on. “You were so scared, it felt like the least I could do.” They were both staring at their joined hands on the bed. “Did it help?”

Newt was tired, and tired of throwing his whole torso forward when he wanted to nod, so he waited until Percival looked up at him to answer. “Can you just…come a bit closer?” he asked. Percival leaned over the side of the bed, handsome face barely a foot from Newt’s scraped one. “Bit closer,” Newt said, voice so soft he could scarcely hear it himself. Percival’s eyebrow went up in an amused quirk but he did as he asked. Newt stared pointedly at his lips, and after a minute of gentle thrashing sighed heavily.

“I’m trying to kiss you, but I can’t exactly get the angle right,” he told Percival frankly. He felt awed by his own boldness, not a trait he was ever accused of. Percival’s other eyebrow reached to join the first, then a warm smile spread across his face.

“Allow me to help you,” Percival said, his voice quiet, alluring. He stood, long body bending and turning til he was parallel with Newt. He leaned forward, reaching out to lay his hand on Newt’s cheek, and it was as warm as it had been in the car, and then their lips were pressed together, a long drawn out kiss spreading warmth from Newt’s ears to his toes. They broke apart, and Newt licked his lips, savouring the hint of Percival left behind.

“I am so glad we aren’t still in the car,” Newt said with a grin. Percival only nodded, still holding Newt’s cheek, tracing the outlines of his face with his dark eyes. Newt tried, he really did, but then the yawn broke free, refusing to be held down any longer. He rubbed his eyes, already missing the warm hand on his cheek as Percival settled back in his chair, but he was pleased that they still held hands.

“You really should sleep now,” Percival said quietly, and, unless Newt was projecting, regretfully. He sighed heavily; sleep would come easily he knew, but he was afraid of waking up.

“I feel like at any moment I’m going to wake up and find myself still trapped,” he confided. Percival tightened his grip on Newt’s hand.

“Would it help if I stayed til you fell asleep?”

Newt’s heart squealed like a little girl at his words, but he managed to keep it contained. “Yes, I think it would.” Good lord, if he smiled any more he may as well just staple his cheeks up. Percival nodded, and lifted their hands to place a kiss on Newt’s palm, then settled back in his chair. Ignoring the cartwheels his heart was currently jubilantly executing, Newt rested his head on the pillow, slightly miffed that he could only see Percival from the corner of his eye.

“Percival?”

“Yes?”

“Will you, ah…that is, if you have any sort of free time, not that I expect it, but—“

“I’ll come back in the morning, Newt.”

“Okay,” he sighed happily.

“Close your eyes now, Newt.”

“Yessir.”

A few silent minutes passed, the heart monitor beeping steadily, then Newt spoke, groggily.

“Hey Percival?”

“Yes?”

“How did you find me anyways?”

“Actually,” Percival snorted, “I had to swerve out of the way of this enormous stag that just leaped out of nowhere. Idiot beast. Then I caught sight of your lights, and…” he trailed off, Newt knew the rest.

“A _stag_?”

“Yep. Big guy. Cocky too; just stared me down when I got out of my car.” Percival cocked his head. “Why?”

“No reason…”

Percival was curious, but let it go. He ran his thumb in a pattern across Newt’s wrist again, sitting in quiet contemplation, listening to Newt’s breathing even out. He was about to make his exit as unobtrusively as possible, when he swore he heard a whisper.

“ _Fucking stag.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I re read this until I hated it; if there are any mistakes let's pretend they are intentional.  
> PS: I consider deer majestic creatures, but I do firmly believe in overconfident, cocky, trouble causing males, like in any species.


End file.
